


Diamonds are Forever.

by deer_stalker



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Johnlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 08:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deer_stalker/pseuds/deer_stalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How bad could a movie night at 221B with Sherlock Holmes really be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diamonds are Forever.

_Diamonds are forever. Really? SH_

Be quiet. I just found it on the T.V before, and therefore I will watch it. JW

_Really John, I envy the simplicity of your mind sometimes. SH_

I'm not even asking you to watch it! Shut up. JW

_And just for that... SH_

Sherlock finished off his text by appearing in the room, ghosting his way over to the too-small settee where John was sitting amidst the popcorn and wine glass. Letting out a defeated sigh, John shuffled over, giving the lanky detective some space to sit. He was fairly well-behaved for a while. A while being the titles and credits before the film had even began, and then it started. "Who's he?" "How on earth can he be the villain, the way he holds himself says lover, it's all wrong!" "No, I think you'll find that the gun would not reach that distance." "I don't even like his bow tie." before it finally clicked; Sherlock had not seen a Bond film. Sitting bolt upright, John ran over to the T.V, where he turned it off immediately. Sherlock, being the top class prick that he was, stood up, clapping and pretending to cry, "Best part of the film," he concluded, before John turned to face him. 

"You haven't seen a Bond film, have you?" he asked, slowly walking over to him, with a boyish grin on his face.

"No, but then again you haven't witnessed the effects of a rat inhaling Phosphorus," Sherlock retaliated, eyes narrowing, mentally kicking himself for coming out with such an irrelevant fact in the heat of the moment. John giggled slightly, biting back a full hearty laugh, still aiming to get his own way. "How about, dare I say it, a Bond night?" he asked, now standing right in front of the detective, only centimetres away from him. 

"You're on," he almost whispered, before John headed back to the T.V, setting them up to watch all of the films that John owned on their tiny little box-T.V set. Progressively, throughout the second film, John had pointed out that in order to share the popcorn, Sherlock would have to at least sit within a few inches of him, because he could reach the bowl, to which Sherlock had came back with the taunts of being a Hobbit and only having Hobbit sized limbs.

After a brief break to have a small but enjoyable popcorn-throwing-war, Sherlock finally sat next to John, resting the popcorn bowl in between the two of them. As the films progressed, they both grew more and more comfortable with each other's presence, until at last, somewhere through _Goldfinger, Sherlock_ adjusted them so that he was half lying down, half sitting up, with John's head on his chest, one arm draped around his back, and the other hand digging in the remains of the popcorn. Sherlock, however, continued to shout, "WRONG!" at various intervals of the film, making sarcastic comments at every opportunity. This went on for a few hours, as expected of John, until the early hours of the morning, when finally as a mixture of the wine they had been drinking, exhaustion, and total want for it, John sat up and simply brushed his lips over Sherlock's. Nothing heavy or passionate, a simple ghosting over the detective's lips. _Still,_ John told himself, _it shut him up._ And it did. John continued watching his film, and Sherlock shut up, worrying in case he carved holes in the back of John's skull with the intesity of his staring in amazement and confusement at the kiss. 

Another movie later, and Sherlock heard a very quiet but rough noise erupting from John's chest. It wasn't loud enough to be classed as a proper snore, but it was his own very adorable version of a snore. Fearing that he would wake the sleeping soldier up, Sherlock simply turned the movie down a bit, having to reach over to the coffee table to pick the remote up. Subconsciously, John's grip on Sherlock's dressing gown tightened, pinning him back down to the settee, where he safely nestled back into him even more than before, if that were physically possible. Smiling down at the shorter man, Sherlock began to stroke his short blonde hair, reassuring his unconscious self that he was not leaving, which seemed to work. John's grip loosened marginally, before shuffling closer to the detective, nestling his head in the long, pale neck in front of him. "Night, Sh'lock," he muttered, before falling back to sleep, with Sherlock's conscious not far behind him.


End file.
